Thank You For Flying MJN Air
by darnedchild
Summary: A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week - Day Three (OMG You're Really Real) (It's Crossover day and that means we're playing with "Cabin Pressure".) (Why can I not find a category for Cabin Pressure? You're failing me .)


**A/N:** Dialogue in italics lifted entirely from the Qikiqtarjuaq episode of "Cabin Pressure". Sorry (not sorry). It's hilarious and you should all find and listen to all the episodes. All of them.

 **Thank You For Flying MJN Air**

The funny little steward who greeted everyone with a wide, goofy grin as they boarded the jet didn't give Molly pause (although she overheard another passenger calling him odd). The stern stewardess who gruffly directed her toward her seat didn't bother her. She even found Expedition Supervisor Nancy Dean Liebhart to be more amusing than annoying (although Molly was one of the few who seemed to feel that way).

Nothing was going to make Molly regret her decision to blow a large portion of her holiday fund on an excursion to Qikiqtarjuaq with Unbeaten Track Travel to see . . . polar bears.

Her skin prickled with excitement as she settled into her seat and imagined what it was going to be like to see polar bears up close (well, as close as one could when one was flying by in a plane).

The cabin address came on for the pre-flight announcement and Molly turned her attention to the overly cheerful steward from before. He was standing near the front of the plane, happily nodding along to First Officer Richardson's announcement.

At first she didn't catch the references, but her father had been an avid Alfred Hitchcock fan, and by the third movie title ("North by Northwest", "Vertigo", and "The Birds") Molly had begun to cotton on. The First Officer continued with, _"You will already have met your purser today, Carolyn "Rebecca" "Topaz", but now, as "The Lady Vanishes" behind the "Torn Curtain" into the galley, the steward will hold you "Spellbound" with his "Notorious" demonstration of "The Thirty-Nine Steps" to a safe evacuation, though these basically boil down to three: pull the "Rope", inflate the "Lifeboat" and escape through the "Rear Window"._

Molly giggled at that last bit. Obviously there was no rear window in a jet, so the entire thing must have been a deliberate joke. She caught sight of Nancy, visibly fuming as she stomped up the aisle toward the front of the plane. Apparently Nancy didn't find the cabin address nearly as humorous as Molly had; but then again, Molly had been told on more than one occasion that her sense of humour was . . . off.

It was probably a good thing Nancy had disappeared by the time the steward started his safety briefing. Especially when he got to the bit about water landings and the screaming and frantic hand waving started. Molly watched him with wide eyes, and briefly considered asking to be let off the plane. By the time she'd decided to stay where she was the plane was already taxing toward the runway.

Molly nearly pressed her nose against the window as they lifted off. Flying was something she rarely got to do. It had been years since she'd taken a holiday, and even longer since she'd had cause to get on a plane. When the opportunity to travel to Canada for a conference came up, she jumped on the chance and then scheduled an extra week of time off so she could turn the trip into a holiday.

Eventually Molly began to pay attention to what was going on inside the jet, rather than being solely mesmerized by the view outside. The stewardess was making her way up the aisle with a drinks trolley and the steward . . . Molly wasn't sure what he was doing.

He had a book in his hands and he appeared to be showing one of the passengers several pictures of bears from it. Suddenly he closed the book and began to wave it around. _"We're all experts on stuff today, you see? I'm the expert on bears. And Egypt, actually. In Egypt, they used to pull your brains out through your nose with a hook. And that's not even something in this book—that's something I know!"_

The woman he was speaking to began to look around as if searching for something or someone, and Molly heard her ask _"Is someone looking after you, young man?"_

 _"_ _No. I'm looking after you."_ He shook his head and grinned in disbelief. _"You are confused, aren't you?"_

Molly was beginning to wonder if the young man was having some sort of medical emergency. He was acting very odd. Perhaps hypoglycemia? She tried to remember what, if any, effects high altitude might have on blood sugar.

 _"_ _Arthur,"_ the stewardess began as she pushed the trolley right past Molly's seat without stopping. _"What are you doing?"_

 _"_ _Ah, teaching."_ He looked rather proud.

Rather than expressing concern that he might be ill or . . . well, deranged, the stewardess simply shook her head. _"Code Red, Arthur."_

Molly watched him tuck his bear book under his arm and disappear into the galley with a _"Right-o."_

The other passenger asked what Code Red was, and Molly found herself leaning forward in her seat to better hear the answer.

 _"_ _Oh, it's just a code between him and I. It means 'Go away, go away now, go away fast'."_

Maybe she should suggest the idea to Greg, for those times when Sherlock was being particularly Sherlockish. She was trying to picture the exact look that would appear on Sherlock's face when the other passenger began to get upset because the stewardess had a . . . lemon in her hand.

The stewardess dropped the lemon in her pocket with a smug grin and pushed the trolley down the aisle, skipping the rest of the seats.

The other woman met Molly's eyes and shrugged, obviously as confused as Molly was.

The cabin address chimed. _"Hello, ladies and gentleman."_ There was the First Officer again.

Molly perked up. Would there be another word game?

 _"_ _Ladies and gentlemen, it is now my pleasure to introduce you to your captain today, Captain Martin du Cref, who joins us today for his first flight, in fact, after ten years with Air France."_

There was a quietly hissed _"You . . ."_ from the intercom that made the fine hairs on the back of Molly's neck stand up. She knew that voice, but how did she know it?

The First Officer continued speaking. _"Dealing with whatever's thrown at you?"_ Almost as if he were goading the other man.

The other man, presumably the Captain, spoke again _"Although actually I'm . . ."_

 _"_ _French. He's a French pilot. From France."_

This time the Captain spoke in a horrible French accent. _"'allo. It is mah pleasure to be today your pilot on this journey, most exciting. 'owever, as I am not, uh, the native speaker, the First Officer will do most of the talking today."_ The atrocious accent disappeared near the end, reverting to a more familiar English accent.

A very familiar English accent.

Molly hit the call button above her seat and nibbled at her lower lip. There was no way the man on the intercom could be Sherlock Holmes, no matter how similar they sounded. Could he? Why would Sherlock be here, in Canada, on this plane of all places?

Arthur, the odd expert on Egyptology moonlighting as an airline steward, hurried toward her seat. "How can myself help yourself this afternoon?"

She took a second to sort through that mishmash of words to find his meaning. "Uh, well, I was wondering—and I apologize because this is probably a silly question, but-"

"I love silly questions," Arthur interrupted her. "Just the other day we wondered if you could fit a hundred otters on GERTI."

"Gerti?" Molly had no idea who Gerti was.

"GERTI. This jet. That's what we call her. GERTI." He smiled and affectionately ran his hand over the headrest of the seat in front of Molly.

"And could you? Get a hundred otters in here, I mean." Why she was asking, she had no clue; but now that he'd mentioned it, she found herself strangely curious as to the answer.

"Yes! It took a bit of working out, since Skip refused to let any on the flight deck; but I figured if you turn off the fridge in the galley and take out all the shelves, you can just fit that last otter in it."

"Huh." Molly blinked and shook her head. "Interesting. Anyway, the Captain . . . By any chance is he a tall man with brown, curly hair? A sort of know-it-all superior attitude about, well, everything really?"

"Skip? Tall? With brown hair? Nooo." Arthur laughed. "No. Short and ginger. But he does have that sort of attitude, now that you mention it. Why?"

"No reason, really. I was just curious."

"Oh. Okay." Arthur bopped down the aisle to disappear behind the crew curtain once more.

When she came out of the loo a bit later she very nearly ran into a man in a Captain's uniform (short and ginger, just as Arthur had described) slowly making his way through the cabin. As she edged past him Molly couldn't help but notice the lemon taped to the top of his impressively decorated hat.

Nothing exciting happened for a while, and Molly spent her time looking at the scenery outside the window. Just as she spotted several small dots on the ground the cabin address came to life.

Arthur yelled _"Polar bears! Look, on the ground!"_

The First Officer excitedly exclaimed, _"Of all places. Excellent. Right, bears, let's see what you've got!"_

The Captain who was most definitely not Sherlock tried to calm things down as the jet's engines began to whine and the plane dropped. _"Douglas, I don't think . . . Douglas, we don't have the altitude!"_

First Officer Douglas seemed to be enjoying himself. _"Oh, we've got plenty of altitude!"_

 _"_ _We don't! We're at treetop level already!"_ the Captain yelled.

Molly and the rest of the passengers began to panic slightly as the arguing from the flight deck got louder.

 _"_ _Ah, but you're forgetting—no trees in the Arctic! That gives us at least another thirty foot!"_

 _"_ _No, it does-"_

 _"_ _Oh, you think you can get away that way, do you, Paddington?"_ Douglas taunted one of the bears that begun to run. The plane banked sharply _._ Someone's empty drink cup fell into the aisle and rolled around the cabin floor.

 _"_ _No! Douglas, you'll stall it!"_

 _"_ _No I won't. Just sit back and enjoy the ride!"_

 _"_ _I can't enjoy it if you're gonna kill us all!"_

Nancy Dean Liebhart looked as if she were about to start vomiting at any moment.

 _"_ _Don't exaggerate! Ah-ha!"_ Douglas exclaimed.

The jet engines, the Captain, and all the passengers began to scream.

 _"_ _Let's be having you, then, Winnie!"_

Captain Screamy continued to yell. _"Douglas! I have control!"_

 _"_ _No, you don't! Ooh, Baloo at ten o'clock!"_ The plane turned again. Then the sounds of Douglas pretending to be a machine gun came over the intercom as he strafed another bear. _"Daka-daka-daka-daka-daka-daka!"_

 _"_ _Douglas, please, please stop! You're gonna kill us all! Please! You'll kill us all!"_

 _"_ _Oh, fine."_ The plane gained altitude and the engines quieted. _"Honestly, what a fuss."_

 _"_ _Gentlemen."_ Molly recognized that voice as belonging to the stewardess. She sounded only slightly less shaken then the passengers.

 _"_ _There you go."_ Douglas seemed pleased with himself. _"We gave them a bit of a show, didn't we?"_

 _"_ _Oh, yes,"_ she answered, rather dryly.

 _"_ _Sorry I had to stop, but they must have got a pretty good eyeful of the bears, didn't they?"_

 _"_ _They mainly weren't look at the bears."_

 _"_ _Why ever not?"_ Douglas asked, as if he couldn't guess. How he managed not to hear all the yelling and praying coming from the passenger cabin, Molly had no idea.

 _"_ _Because they were mainly frozen in terror,"_ the stewardess explained. _"Because for some reason, as soon as you started chasing the bears, the cabin address came on."_

 _"_ _Oh, dear."_

Molly decided then and there that the next time she had a chance to fly anywhere, she was going to book her flight with MJN Air.


End file.
